Mad Max 2 (1981)

"You're living off the corpse of the old world."

They say this is the greatest action film ever made. It's hard to disagree.

Sequels are seldom better than originals. It's a truism. Yet here it isn't true, and on many levels. We get a Western style of plot, with Max as a mysterious and bitter stranger who slowly learns to care once more as he saves an oppressed community from bandits. And it's all done very well, with an assured and charismatic performance from Mel Gibson but with even relatively minor characters feeling nuanced and human. It's well-shot. It is, at its basics, simply a very well-made Western, only set in the outback of New South Wales in the post-apocalyptic future.

And it's this latter thing, more than the nuts and bolts, that makes the film so influential- a post-apocalyptic future where civilisation has broken down and only isolated communities exist, fighting over what remains of food, petrol and what is left of advanced technology. This is made cooler by a punk aesthetic, with the baddies wearing mohicans, masks and other cool accoutrements. All this, along with the desert landscape and cannibalised vehicles, makes for a deeply cool aesthetic. And yet... the first Mad Max wasn't like this, was it? Yes, there had been some sort of event and yes, things were a bit Wild West. But there were things such as a police force, property rights, a legal system. Not here. Indeed, the opening scene retcons the first film even as it shows clips from it, narrating a nuclear apocalypse and showing us a far wilder world.

This adds pathos; civilisation has gone, and so much knowledge, culture and tech will die with this generation. It's a rather emotional moment  where Max shows a simple music box to a feral kid who represents a generation which will not remember such things, will not remember so many things. This is a fine, fine film- a superior action film that functions brilliantly in that capacity yet which, with only broad strokes of world building, hints at so much more.

Cyborg (1989)

“I like the misery!”

 The hero of this glorious late '80s Cannon Films, er, , played by the esteemed M. Van Damme himself, is called Gibson Rickenbacker. The baddie is called Fender. Really. That is a thing that happened.

The film is a hugely entertaining time capsule from the late '80s heyday of Cannon films, written in order to make use of sets made for a Masters of the Universe sequel and a Spider-Man film, neither of which would ultimately materialise. It's 1989, so we have a post-apocalyptic, post-plague and vaguely gothy future, no doubt influenced by those Mad Max sequels I haven't seen yet. The delightfully scenery-chewing B-movie baddie wears shades, for that is the zeitgeist, and there's a cyborg lady who's vaguely relevant to the plot, because everybody's read Neuromancer. If only there were some mention of cyberspace we'd have reached peak late '80s sci-fi zeitgeist in B-movie form. I mean, the baddies are called the Flesh Pirates. What's not to love about that?

Anyway, this is an entertaining and visually impressive little melodrama, with a gruff, post-apocalyptic who is persuaded by, you guessed it, an attractive young lady to stop just brooding about revenge and actually save the world for once. There are some rather good set pieces, including a crucifixion, no less. And the film dosn't outstay its welcome. The music is trying very hard to be Vangelis, just to borrow a bit of Blade Runner street cred, but is actually surprisingly good, even if the visuals do seem to cry out for something much gothier- Sisters of Mercy perhaps?

Anyway, a delightfully silly load of old tosh that I enjoyed muchly. Highly recommended to those, like myself, who enjoy this sort of thing.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries!"

I'm obviously not blogging the telly series; it’s brilliant and revolutionary, of course, and any kind of “best of” will always be hilarious, but a sketch show with thirteen episodes to fill will inevitably be, to use the hackneyed phrase, hit and miss. And it’s not an appetising thought to attempt to review individual episodes of a series that is, deliberately, rather stream-of-consciousness. But I’ll have a go at the films. And yes, I know And Now For Something Completely Different is technically the first Python film, but I think we’re safe to treat that as a stand-alone compilation.

So, what of the film? Well, it's utterly hilarious, obviously, a serious contender for funniest film ever made. The Python style and humour translates perfectly to the big screen, in spite of the obviously low budget. The great locations and bloody good direction by Terry Jones (not Terry Gilliam, but they didn't know at the time that he would go on to be a big Hollywood director) really help here.

It's interesting to see, though, how coherent the sketches more or less are as a longer narrative, the perfect fruition of what Michael Palin and Terry Jones were trying to do increasingly during that final, truncated series. But the many iconic scenes, which we all know so well, are an absolute triumph. Forget the gleefully dodgy history; this is comedy gold. Even Elvis thought so.

Humans: Season 3, Episode 6

"Social cohesion is our only hope..."

After having our hopes raised, this is where we start to see them dashed. We can tell right from the pre-credits sequence, with Laura narrating, which reminds us how precarious everything is. And then, after Mia’s positive speech to the commission, everything is destroyed by Agnes’ senseless suicide bombing, in one instant, in a superbly directed sequence full of juxtapositions.

So much happens. Mattie is pregnant! Unwitting father-to-be Leo discovers that his own father regretted saving him. Niska’s separate and rather plodding plot thread, the series’ only real misstep, continues to plod along. And there’s a terrifying sequence in which Laura discovers that “Stanley” is not what he seems. He’s creepy and terrifying; a superb performance. Yet Laura manages to persuade him not to massacre the Dryden Commission. For now, anyway.

But the truly devastating scene comes at the end, as Anatole enters the Hawkins residence to bring Stanley back, and cruelly proves that even Laura would instinctly save a random human over even little Sam. Devastatingly, this brings not only Stanley but also Sam to Anatole’s side. It’s a powerful scene.

It’s a tribute to the script that an episode such as this, largely functional and quite visibly putting all the ducks in a row for the end game, can nevertheless be so dramatic, emotive and devastating. More please.

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

"I have a feeling we're not in Kansas any more!"

This is one weird film. Brilliant, extraordinary, but, well... I'm 41 and, probably unlike yourself, had never seen it before. You probably grew up with it, so you don't realise how odd, trippy and downright bizarre this film is.

Mrs Llamastrangler forced- er, suggested that I bring this film forward from “soon” to “now” as it is admittedly pretty much the most ridiculous film not to have seen. But sometimes it’s advantageous coming to a film late, without childhood memories or bias. As ever, there were lots of moments I knew from the pop culture zeitgeist. But I enjoyed it; the film fully deserves its popularity. It’s brilliantly made- extraordinary special effects, superb design and a laudable determination to eschew realism. The script is delightfully witty and Judy Garland is perfect.

Stil... something this trippy was made in 1939? Based on an old children’s novel, half-forgotten, which was largely an allegory for US politicians of the William McKinley era? Bizarre. It’s also hard not to be constantly reminded of the dreadful sexual abuse suffered by Ms Garland, and how depressingly little has changed on that front. But any intended allegories are no longer contemporary by 1939; you can pretty much stamp whatever meaning on it that you want to. I can’t help noticing, though, that the “good” witch Glinda seems to get Dorothy and her friends to risk their lives removing all her potential rivals to absolute power. Hmm.

The film looks amazing, with the special effects surrounding the tornado unsurpassed in 79 years. The contrast between sepia Kansas and colourful, theatrical Oz with its rejection of realism is brilliantly done, especially as Dorothy opens the farmhouse door and sees colour. The songs and dialogue are gloriously and unexpectedly witty. And there’s a suspiciously druggy use of poppies to send our heroes to sleep. Hmm.

One side effect of Oz is probably unintended, though; doesn’t turn of the century Kansas look stultifyingly dull?

A Very English Scandal: Episode 3

“I was rude, I was vile, I was queer, I was myself!"

After a peerless couple of episodes, themselves a bloody good example of quality telly, this final episode simply knocks both of them into a cocked hat. Extraordinary.

We see the evidence pieced together, inexorably, until the shocking moment of Thorpe's arrest arrives. The storytelling beats are perfect, the mix of humour and pathos just as in real life, the structure of the whole thing an absolute triumph of both writing and direction, the dialogue simply magnificent, the ending deeply satisfying.

There is of course a harsh light, leavened necessarily by humour, into the shocking levels of homophobia, police brutality, hypocrisy and rank snobbery- the way Thorpe blanks his old friend David, who happens to be northern and common, in the courtroom. But there is also a nod to the other side of the '70s- the clothes, the disco, the famous Peter Cook ribbing of the summing up with the line about "player of the pink oboe". There is injustice; there is inequality; these things are not ok and must be fought, but still there is life, and there is laughter, and there is joy. It's all wonderfully RTD and, after the sadly under-viewed Cucumber, reminds us that RTD is one of the best writers we have. That domestic, semi-confession scene with semi-confession, cod in parsley sauce, love, forgiveness and very understated English emotion, is alone worthy of a BAFTA.

Hugh Grant, of course, also triumphs here, finding even more nuance within this complicated, genuinely progressive man who, in the end, reflexively abuses his privilege to do terrible things, yet is also a victim of the prejudices of his generation. Adrian Scarborough excels too, though, enjoying himself hugely stealing the show as the larger-than-life George Carman. Yet Ben Whishaw perhaps lingers in the mind as Norman finally gets his day in court and finally becomes the gay icon he was destined to be.

A truly historic piece of telly, then, and it bloody well better get that shedload of BAFTAs. Perhaps, also, this is posterity's verdict on Thorpe, a complex man but not a good one. But, er, let's not be dissuaded from voting Lib Dem anyway. I'm fairly sure that Vince has never had any bloody huge Great Danes shot to cover up a murky past, and I wouldn't put it past either May or Corbyn...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 2

"She's the love of my life."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Another utterly compelling hour of telly, then, as things move towards their inexorable conclusion. Russell T. Davies, Stephen Frears and an utterly revelatory Hugh Grant are all spellbinding in this artfully crafted bit of telly, and we get to see along the way just how much human devastation is left behind by self-centred posh boy Jeremy Thorpe. And this from a series that has yet to even mention his probable cover-up of the vile Cyril Smith. And yet, as the opening scene reminds me, Thorpe was very much the sort of man of whose politics I tend to approve. I would have voted Liberal back then. Yet progressive politics do not necessarily stop one from being a complete and utter bastard.

Thorpe's desire to see Norman Scott is thrust in our face from the beginning, but we are allowed, at first, to wonder whether it all might perhaps be a joke; Grant plays this ambiguity well. Yet Ben Whishaw is equally excellent in what is, perhaps even more so than the first episode, a double character study heavily reliant on the abundant skills of both actors. Whishaw truly captures both Scott’s odd innocence and his quietly dignified insistence in a homophobic world (the wedding speech is deliberately both funny and undercutting that with horror at the sheer bigotry, very RTD) that his relationship with Thorpe was real and deserving of recognition, whatever the tragedies that befall him, from his abandonment by his wife (and the taking away of his child, the worst thing that can happen to anyone) to the tragic suicide of poor Gwen- why isn’t the fantastic Eve Myles on telly more often?

Much of the episode sees the possibility of scandal slowly simmering, with an attempt to raise the temperature by Emlyn Hooson here (Jason Watkins is bloody good) and a quiet word to the police by Reginald Maudling there. But there is real pathos as Thorpe genuinely mourns the sudden death of his first wife, and shares real affection with his second. Thorpe may be gay, and closeted, but the women in his life are more than just beards. People are complicated.

The whole business of the 1974 election is handled with admirable economy of storytelling, and then the final stretch running up to the attempted assassination is rightly played as the comedy of errors that it seemingly was, with a delightful appearance from Betty Spencer herself, looking perhaps just a little different. The whole thing is a gripping piece of telly, with script, direction and acting all first class. Er, but I have to say that’s an interesting choice of actor to play John Le Mesurier...

Humans Index

 Season 1

Episode 1
Episode 2
Episode 3
Episode 4
Episode 5 
Episode 6
Episode 7 
Episode 8 


Season 2 

Episode 1 
Episode 2
Episode 3
Episode 4
Episode 5
Episode 6 
Episode 7 
Episode 8 


Season 3

Episode 1 
Episode 2 
Episode 3 
Episode 4 
Episode 5

Humans: Season 3, Episode 5

“He was talking to the ground, Joe!”

Another brilliant episode, obviously- this is, after all, Humans- but I get the sense that the sense optimism that we get here is doomed to be brutally punctured, and the outline of how it will happen is very, very visible.

We needed a less depressing episode, of course, after Karen’s death by mob at the end of last week’s, and most of the run time is taken up with Joe returning to the family home with poor orphaned Sam, who has nowhere else to go. We gradually see, as he interacts with the family, now Sam is learning about the emotions of grief he feels (“I don’t want my Mum to be dead. I don’t like it.”), and it’s heartbreaking. We also see Joe reconnecting a little with the family, except of course Mattie.

Elsewhere there is optimism. Laura succeeds in getting the Dryden Commission to ban violence against synths, although the script seems to behave as though it’s suddenly law already, before going through Parliament, but artistic licence and all that. Mia discovers that she has a lot of supporters online, many of whom are hiding synth loved ones, and dares to hope a little. Yet danger lurks; racism has not gone away, and as Max’s optimism runs ahead of him he alienated Anatole, who ends up freeing Agnes. Equally bad, Mattie is “befriended” by a journalist who is on to her. I suspect next episode will be much less cheery, especially as Mattie’s public excoriation will utterly undermine Laura and her cause. Why do I get the impression that Joe will somehow sacrifice himself to save Mattie?

That cliffhanger, though... Stanley has never been creepier. This series has bed. Consistently excellent, but I always await the next instalment with trepidation.

Angel: Supersymmetry

"Think Daredevil #181. I'm Bullseye, you're Elektra."

Wow. That was a bit good, A superb script, a quirky concept, geeky in-jokes, great character stuff, a Fred episode, and Amy Acker shows us just how extraordinary she is when really called upon to really act our socks off. She's always excellent, but she's extraordinary here.

It's an origin story, of sorts; dabbling in a bit of physics again sees Fred publishing "just a little breakthrough in quantum particles" in an academic journal, leading initially to screams of delight and getting a bit jiggy with Gunn, but ultimately to Fred being invited to lecture at her old uni, a daunting prospect indeed. Even more daunting is a portal opening in the middle of your speech and a worryingly phallic CGI demon doing rude things to you.

Of course, the main focus here is the fact that Fred's old professor sent her (and other promising postgrad students) off to Pylea out of sheer professional jealousy, and for the first time ever we see Fred getting all vengeful and scary, which Amy Acker gives us both convincingly and without holding back. It's up to Gunn to restrain her and Wesley, who blatantly still carries a torch (he just isn't that into Lilah although she, admittedly not without cynicism, blatantly at least fancies him), to gently aid her with her dish served cold. And it's the ultimate act of love for Gunn to throw the prof into Pylea himself so she doesn't have it on her conscience- although we don't really see her reaction.

We also get Cordy gently telling Connor that she doesn't like him that way and, seeming a little more herself, visiting Angel to ask him, in the last line of the episode, "Were we in love?" Naturally we are left hanging. We also get the clear implication, often hinted st, that while Gunn may not be a card-carrying geek, he knows his Marvel. Good man.

This is, so far, a bloody good season. But this episode stands out, it really does. A beautifully crafted bit of telly.

Angel: Slouching Toward Bethlehem

"You like shoes. And doughnuts. And you're very brave."

This episode has a simple job to do; ensure that the newly amnesiac Cordy ends up just a little wary of Angel and the gang, who clumsily say and do all the wrong things, and trusts Connor, who is at least honest. The result, perhaps, is a little over-contrived, although the acting is superb all round. This episode feels somewhat functional, fascinating though the events are.

There are some moments of humour, of course- I love Cordy's reaction to her old Sunnydale High yearbook- but the episode is oddly linear for something so focused on the season's already-fascinating story arc. I think, though, that this odd little realignment of this new Cordy with Connor, whom she trusts more than his simple honesty would warrant (hmm...), may be connected with the apocalyptic horrors in her future that so traumatise Lorne, and which Wolfram and Hart know all about, thanks to Lilah's tricking of her boyfriend.

Ah yes, Lilah and Wesley- at this point we see them looking almost lovey-dovey and almost like a real relationship (Wesley uses the "r" word), and then Lilah goes and uses him for Wolfram and Hart's purposes just to remind us (and him) that she's literally evil. There doesn't seem to be much else character development, though, in an episode that may have snappy dialogue (this is, after all, the Whedonverse) but seems unusually focused narrowly on plot,plot, plot.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Selfless

"This isn't springy, high-flying fun!"

So here comes the Anya episode we were sort of expecting, and it's simultaneously hilarious and tragic. That'll be Buffy, then.

The hilarious bits are, of course, the flashbacks, starting with "Aud" back in 800 AD with her very Viking husband Olaf who we have, of course, met before. I love the Old Norse with witty translated dialogue, and the sepia tones with scratched picture quality- and the fact that Anya has always been Anya. The tale of how she became a vengeance demon may have no surprises but it’s fun, and that’s the point; the rest of the episode is pretty grim. Anya is back to her killing ways as a vengeance demon, guilt notwithstanding, and it seems Buffy has to kill her. This leads to a gripping argument between her and Xander which, the rather Judge Dredd line “I am the law” aside, is fascinating in both how Buffy as the Slayer is, in the end, always alone with the hard decisions- and, of course, she once had to send Angel (he gets a mention, despite the different network!) to Hell. It also eves that, hard though things may be, Buffy is over last season’s angst.

Other stuff happens; there’s a big CGI spider; Spike is still consumed with guilt over his attempted rape of Buffy; and Willow’s eyes and attitude go a bit Dark Willow for a few seconds as she casts a protection spell: interesting.

It’s Willow who summons D’Hoffryn to solve the whole mess; Anya is able to reverse the deaths she has caused, but for magic there is always a price. And, D’Hoffryn being the boss from Hell, literally, he lets Anya think she’s sacrificing herself only to sacrifice Halfrek instead, her best friend, just to be a bastard, and then fires her for good measure. I’m sure we’ve all had a manager like that at some point.

We end on a hopeful note, perhaps, with a strangely non-awkward scene between Anya and Xander, but are reminded, again, that “from beneath you, it devours”. Yep. That’ll be another bloody good episode.

Get Carter (1971)

"I'm the villain in the family, remember?"

This is an odd beast, very well-directed, very violent, a very gritty portrayal of various Geordie places with mostly unconvincing accents (Mrs Llamastrangler is from them there parts), an unexpectedly complex plot to put it mildly, and playwright John Osborne as a crimelord called Cyril.

It's also a vivid record of various little things about Britain in 1971- the awful brown and yellow decor; the fact that the Sixties never happened for most working class people; how bloody awful much of the housing was; the casual, unthinking sexism.

But we see all this through the amoral eyes of Jack Carter (Caine)- gangster, killer, probable psychopath, womaniser and general complete bastard, as he investigates his brother's somewhat suspicious death, all done with such cold charisma that you don't question how this apparent Geordie born and bred seems to have entirely gone native in London, accent-wise. Through violence and intimidation rather than detective work the casual womaniser soon discovers that everything revolves around the sexual exploitation of Jack's niece, who may be his daughter, and things get very violent.

It's all very watchable- imaginatively shot, well-cast if you ignore the accents and with an admirable economy of exposition. But, my God, it's complex. And all these young people with names like Doreen...

Batman (1989)

"Where does he get those wonderful toys?”

In one sense, and one sense only, this film parallels 1978’s Superman; both of DC’s flagship heroes, in spite of a long and varied Hollywood past, celebrated their fiftieth anniversaries with a whopping big, and rather successful, Hollywood blockbuster. But there the similarities end, because this is a Tim Burton film. And Tim Burton is far more interesting than Hollywood blockbusters.

It’s worth stepping back, though; 1989 was a long time ago, and I was only 12 when I saw this at my local Cannon cinema. But the popular perception of Batman was at best ambiguous, and largely coloured by the magnificent but very singular Adam West TV series, at that time being constantly repeated on UK television. And, after all, the dark, ‘80s version of Batman had only existed for a small percentage of the character’s fifty year history. After an admittedly dark, but very pulp introduction in 1939, it didn’t take long for Batman to morph into decades of Dick Sprang square-jawed straight heroism, which remained in place until the late 1960s. And even the 1970s “Darknight Detective” was very different from the darker 1980s tales of Frank Miller and Alan Grant. This film was, more or less, the introduction of this darker Batman to a wider public.

Tim Burton is, therefore, an inspired choice. This isn’t the Tim Burton we thing of today, of course; all whimsy CGI, a certain style, Helena Bonham Carter and a pre-meltdown Johnny Depp. No; it’s only 1989, and he’s not even done Edward Scissorhands yet. Nevertheless, Burton has a thing for design, and for Gotham it matters. Anton Furst’s cityscape is in some ways the real star of the film, a dark Art Deco. Even the retro fashions- men wear hats with their suits, evoking old gangster films- enhance the atmosphere. Michael Keaton is a deliberate statement as casting choice. And Kack Nicholson is magnificent in exactly the way you’d expect. Kim Basinger is good enough to obscure the fact that the character of Vicki Vale is only there as a token piece of prominent oestrogen in what would otherwise be a sausage fest, and Michael Gough is a fine, grandfatherly Alfred.

Perhaps the fight choreography is a little lacking, but in a film that looks this good and is so well-conceived that’s a minor touch; I can forgive Burton for not being an action film director. And it’s interesting that this Batman relies far more on gadgets than any great physical athleticism. Far more even than usual it makes you wonder why everyone doesn’t know that Bruce Wayne is Batman; after all, he’s the only person in Gotham who can afford all that stuff.

That aside, though, this film is easily as good as I remember it and, in the way it really-presented the character, arguably the most important Batman feature film.

Humans: Season 3, Episode 4

"This isn't living!"

More complex twists and turns as the series reaches its mid-point, again with lots of development for its large number of characters and progression of its complex plot, but it doesn’t feel like clockwork; the mob is always around the corner, and there’s an uncomfortable and ever-present sense of impending doom.

We begin, as an eight episode allows us to do, with a flashback; Agnes wasn’t born hating humans. She was a children's clown, who became conscious when left in a box and whose human just left her for hours, traumatised. Only after three episodes of her being an unsympathetic antagonist do we see the reason why. And, of course, we return to the present day, with Lord Dryden’s commission about to visit the Railyard- and Max locks her in a confined space to keep her away. Oh, she gets away, and briefly seems about to threaten Dryden, but again she is locked in a confined space. It’s clear she’s just being wound up to be the season’s tragic, angry antagonist, and a rather effective one.

The commission visit, against the odds, seems to be a success, showing multiple examples of both the synths’ lack of malevolence and, of course, their personhood. It’s a slight moment of optimism, or at least its possibility. This is in contrast to the horror of Mia, alone in her flat, facing tabloid vilification and viciously racist mobs. What makes this even more tragic is how a guilt-ridden Ed from last season arrives (Mia slaps him!) and offers to whisk her away to a life of happiness. He gets a kiss, but a refusal; Mia’s only intention is to pace the way for hopefully better lives for other synths, dying in a Christlike equanimity.

Meanwhile, international authorities are closing in on Mattie, slowly but surely- is she going to eventually get caught at the worst possible moment, undermining Laura through family connection? Certainly Laura seems to be riding high after the Railyard visit, but she follows this with an odd date with Neil, who seems to just dismiss her after enticing her into bed. But I suspect his behaviour is more to do with his obvious despair. I’m sure he has more secrets yet.

The season ends with horror, though, as little Sam’s synth Blood appears in public, and Karen selflessly sacrifices herself to a vicious mob to save him. It’s effectively shot, foreshadowed in hindsight, and brutal, with Joe as our witness. And I’m beginning suspect that this might foreshadow Joe redeeming himself to his family with a sacrifice of his own?

Needless to say, this is first class telly.

Angel: The House Always Wins

"This place was so much friendlier when the mob ran it."

This episode is, I suppose, narratively necessary. It's three episodes in, we need to properly set up the season, so we need an episode whose function is to bring Lorne back from Las Vegas to rejoin the gang. And then we go a step further- it's a Las Vegas episode, so lets make the threat a rather blatant metaphor for gambling addiction.

Well, that's what we get. It isn't, on the face of it, a promising shopping list on which to hang an episode. It could he been terrible. It isn't. Oh, I'm sure there will be better episodes, but this is entertaining and above all fun, getting us out of all the ongoing angst in LA and varying the tone a bit. Las Vegas may not be one of my top fifty places to visit in America- it's not my idea of culture, But this episode I enjoyed.

The premise may be obvious, but the directorial style is impressive, and there are clever narrative touches which succeed in returning Cordelia from Powers-That-Be land by making her do something a bit naughty; Angel is a bit of an old bore, spending much of the episode name dropping; and Fred and Gunn are getting along much better. Oh, and Wesley has an obligatory scene of, er, phone sex with Lilah. Lovely.

Still, a solid episode and a nice change. Not a lot wrong with the season at this point.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Help

"Have you Googled her yet?"

"Willow, she's seventeen!"

"It's a search engine!"

Even final seasons must have their stories of the week, and this one is textbook; there's some vaguely arc-relevant character stuff, which I'll get to later, but by Buffy standards this is pretty standalone.

So Cassie is a kid with precognitive abilities who knows she's destined to die next Friday, and the Scoobies try to work out to save her. It turns out that Cassie is to be the victim of some red-robed privileged white frat boy cultists who literally profit from the deaths of others (subtext much?), and is saved by Buffy, only to die of the heart arrhythmia that was always going to kill her. That's it.

Except it's all paced perfectly, well-acted, and all the more effective for being oddly un-Buffy in tone.In purely arc terms this is an eminently skippable episode, but that's no way to see things; time after time, the small, self-contained little tales are quietly better than big, over-promising epic stuff.

Other stuff happens too; the above exchange shocks you today with its implication that, a mere 15 years ago, search engines were not something it was safe to simply assume viewers knew about. Then there's the fact that Willow is back Scoobying (in a non-magic way) but, as Dawn says, she's "here" but not "part of the gang here". There's Dawn's continued fully-fledged Scoobying. There's Willow finally visiting Tara's grave, a symbolic act of proper grieving- and, in a nice Jewish touch, leaving a stone. And there's Buffy quietly being a pretty good counsellor. All quiet, undramatic suff, but it matters. Like this deceptively modest little episode.

Humans: Season 3, Episode 3

“Mrs Hawkins, are you asking me to commit treason on a first date?"

A lot of character development in the latest excellent episode, as well as a nice change of focus on slightly different characters to ensure each character within this large ensemble cast has something to do. The performances and the ideas continue, of course, to be spot on.

We begin with the embattled Max turning down a request for asylum from the Russian synths met by Mia last episode, having no choice in the matter, in an obvious nod to the refugee crisis of a couple of years ago; it's an agonising decision for him, and one that hardly helps his tenuous position as leader. Safe from that potentially toxic environment are Mattie and the newly fully human Leo, who are now spending a few days chez the Hawkins family. Interestingly, there are real sparks between Mattie and the strangely innocent Leo, which leads to one of those TV kisses that clearly signal off-screen sex.

Even more interesting is Mia's plan to lie openly among humans in what seems to be highly dangerous experiment in bridge building, where she encounters terrible racism- is she trying to martyr herself in the hope of making things eventually better for others? Niska, meanwhile, gets relatively little screen time but is busy with detective work. We learn more of Anatole's past, before consciousness, as a courtesan; is there budding romance between him and Max? We also learn more of his religious faith in, naturally, David Elster.

Stanley, Laura's new orange-eyed synth, is as sinister as ever, and his denial of being a spy for some murky authority pretty much confirms that he is exactly that. He has much to spy on; Laura has an interesting date with Neil, culminating in a kiss(!), in which he reveals himself to be an interesting and layered individual of ambiguous loyalties who, clearly, has a big role to play in the plot. So it feels like a betrayal when he takes a hardline position on restricting synth movements at the next committee meeting, leaving Laura in a minority of one. Her place on the committee is clearly pointless, unless she comes up with a big idea. So she comes up with one; the committee should go and spend some time with the synths at the Railyard.

This is superb telly. Unfortunately at the moment it's slightly eclipsed by A Very English Scandal, but at most other times it would easily e the best thing on.

Horror Express (1972)

"Monster? We're British, you know!"

Well, that was unexpectedly good. I watched this in expectation of a bizarre Euro-twist on Hammer horror, with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee but a Spanish director and a very international cast. Instead I found something rather classier.

Oh, there's some dodgy science- apparently our brains are ridged rather than smooth because of the impressions of our memories, folks- and the whole thing is pure base under siege melodrama, but the whole thing is done both intelligently (it's 1906, and the era is recreated and reflected in dialogue with historical accuracy) and well. It's superbly directed, with the monster killing by making your eyes and face bleed. If that wasn't enough, there's a little tribute to Bunuel and Dali with a scalpel and an eyeball. By 1972 standards this is as gory as it gets. And there's even an ersatz Rasputin. What's not to love about this splendid tale of an alien possessed missing link in pre-revolutionary Russia?

Lee and Cushing are, as always, superb as leads, and the whole thing is a gripping little claustrophobic thriller with a splendid cast- Telly Savalas gets a small but memorable role as a delightfully overplayed bastard; he's enjoying this role- that looks great and keeps you entertained. I also think, in its international environment of a train from the Russian concession in Shanghai through Siberia to Moscow, that it has something to say about nationalism, gently mocking the British chauvinism of our two heroes but showing Russian nationalism to be rather dark. An underrated gem, I think.